Imprisoned by Insanity
by Miss Mel Lives
Summary: He brought the cold clammy bracelet from out behind his back. "I promise, I wont let her take control. We just need to talk to her." "I cant." I stammered. But he had already tightened the hateful thing around my wrist.
1. Chapter 1

Drip.

Drip.

I felt cold like the numbness of a missing limb. It bit and tore at my soft flesh.

I hadn't the energy to move. She had drained it all from me.

I lay in frozen in a pool of liquid. Blood. Of my own, but not.

Voices and footsteps are all around me.

But no one can has found me. Yet.

The bracelet has fallen from me. Abandoning me in my time of need.

I am afraid. Of what she can do to me. Of what she has done.

I will be blamed.

I shiver and shake.

"In here." Someone yells.

Bang.

Bang.

The door bursts open.

They have found me.

* * *

_Three months later_

"Now Miss Cromwell, I want you to look at these pictures I'm showing you and tell me what you see."

I'm Crazy.

That's what they are saying.

I'm a complete and utter loon.

I am sitting at a small purple plastic desk, made for children, with a matching purple plastic chair with this so called 'doctor' asking me stupid questions.

I know other people are watching. Why else would a complete wall of this little room be a mirror? What do they think I'm stupid?

No. Just crazy.

But I'm not. It really did happen the way I told them it did.

I keep staring at the mirror, trying to see if I can see the people on the other side.

"Now, Miss Cromwell." He handed me several small squares of card with ink blots on them. "what do you see here?"

I looked at the first one, then shuffled it to the back. Then looked at the next one and shuffled it to the back. And the next one and the next. My hands getting faster and faster.

I was getting frustrated.

"They're all the same." I growl throwing the cards back at him. They hit him square in the chest, then scatter all over the floor. He has this concerned look on his face.

"Tell me." He asks calmly. But his hands shakes nervously ready to start writing what ever spills from my mouth.

"I see… I see…." I pause for dramatic effect. Oh boy… this is a good one. "I see, black ink blots on white cardboard cards of varying patterns." I grin at him and he looks annoyed.

"That's it!!" He shouts towards the mirror, "I've had enough. She's an uncooperative little smart arse. I wont deal with her shit anymore."

"Fuck you," I yell at him. "you Commie bastard. Fuck off back to your own country and go pick rice in a field like the rest of your unwashed family. Leave me the fuck alone!"

I clamp my hand over my mouth. Where the hell did that come from?

He just glares at me and storms out of the room.

* * *

_The following week…_

I have never been in a court room before.

My own trial and they wouldn't let me in.

My public defender said she had to fight to have me testify today. I don't know, _or care,_ what she says. She's a liar. That's what my Gran always said. That all lawyers are liars, out to get our money.

There were a whole lot of people in here. The judge sat up on a little platform behind a huge desk just beside where the made me sit. There were a group of people sitting up in a grand stand 'thing' just to the other side of me. There were two other desks facing me. And a couple dozen rows of benches behind a small gate behind them.

Just like in the movies.

I was made to wait outside until they called me in.

A man with a gun told me I had to go inside and he led me up the isle way through the little wooden gate to my seat.

The moment I stepped through the doors, people all around me gasped and started whispering loudly.

The judge banged his gavel and shouted at everyone to be quite.

I took me seat at the front of the room but the man with the gun told me to stand up again. He gave me a book to hold.

"Miss Cromwell, do you swear to tell the whole truth, so help you god?" He asked.

I think it was mealy just for decoration and tradition that he asked me this because no one was actually paying attention to whether or not I answered.

I don't believe in god.

Why should I swear to anyone, let alone someone I don't believe in.

I threw the book down on the floor space in front of me. "I don't believe in god." I said casually and sat back down.

"Miss Cromwell!" The judge said harshly, "You will not disrespect this court room."

"Prove to me god exists and I'll swear on your book of lies." I shot back.

The room erupted with loud yelling.

He banged his gavel once more. "Order! Order!." He shouted over the din.

I started fidgeting with the hem of my shirt.

Someone had traded my ugly scratchy hospital gown for an even uglier blouse and skirt combo. Yuck.

"Get on with it." The judge nodded to a man sitting at one of the desks.

"Please state your name for the record." Was all he said.

I love it when they leave themselves wide open like this.

"My name is Andrea Suzette Cromwell," I answered in a loud voice. "Daughter of the dearly departed Mr and Mrs Cromwell, sister to the slaughtered twins and lover to the beloved dead brother." I smirked and threw my head back laughing.

This was great. Everyone was yelling. Some people were even crying. One man was standing over the little gate stabbing the air with his finger in my direction, shouting at the top of his lungs all the while going bright purple in the face. My public defender was just sitting there shaking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose.

Call me crazy and that's what you get…


	2. Chapter 2

_Present…_

I paced back and forth. This wasn't right. Where the hell was I? One minute I was lying comfortably in my hospital issued, night dress contemplating the reason why the paint was peeling from the ceiling I shared with six other mentally retarded or insane people and the next. Well… I had no freaking clue.

Heavy burgundy drapes blocked out what I assumed was daylight and the room was practically bare. Except for a single bed made with darkly coloured bedding that complemented the dark drapes. It definitely wasn't the hospital. Or maybe it was. I was clinically insane… apparently. Why not add delusions of grandeur to my list of 'sicknesses'.

I had thrown the covers off of me as soon as I realised that this wasn't where I fell asleep and now they lay heaped on the floor next to the offending bed.

Gee, I knew that had me on the strong stuff but wow… I think I'd remember being moved during the night and yeah…changed. I was no longer wearing that stiff cotton hospital issued night gown. Well I wasn't wearing a whole lot. Rose quartz. That was the colour. My favourite colour and that was the colour of my…well…my singlet top and matching panties. Humm…freaky. Someone undressing me and then redressing me. In something that was my favorite colour.

I tried one door and then the door and well, they were both locked. No surprises there. They always locked the doors. So I paced the room. Back and forth. It was exactly six steps wide and 11 steps long.

I tried to sneak a peak out of the window, which was strictly forbidden and punishable by having your TV privileges taken away, but there wasn't anything to see. The whole window, which was the length of the wall, had been blacked out with most likely paint, duh, or maybe tar or mud or that icky stuff that dripped from the creature for the black lagoon. I couldn't see out. And it had cleverly been done on the outside too, so as, I suppose, to stop the likes of me trying to pick it away and see out.

I hate doctors. Think they always know what's best. 'Take this medication', 'do this activity' or 'share your feelings'. Blah blah blah. It was all the same psycho babble crap. They were all the same. Mind numbingly the same. I swear that they all sat around a room and thought up different ways to make you seem more insane then you apparently are. Strictly regiment schedules. No deviations from the plan. Take this drug and you'll feel this way. Talk about what happened and you feel that way. No room for interpretations. No room for differences.

Waking up here had thrown _my_ routine out. I usually woke to one of the sisters poking me awake at the butt crack of dawn to give me my morning de-stimuli. Followed by another who ushered me off to humiliating open styled shower cubical where me and my six roomies would be subjected to the freezing spray and harsh industrial soap that was our morning shower. No privacy. None.

Apparently it was easier to keep an eye on all of us at once and to see if anyone was desperate enough to slit their wrists with the complementary pink lady bic that we all had to share. I'd rather be hairy then use it after one of the tards got their hands on it.

I suddenly felt claustrophobic and I needed to pee.

I tried the doors again somehow thinking that they might have unlocked them without me hearing it. Nope, still locked.

"I havta pee!" I yelled whilst banging one of the door. I was met by utter silence. Gah!

I refuse to let soiling myself be added to the list.

I gave up banging. Maybe I was being punished. But I couldn't for the life of me remember doing anything worth wild punishing. Maybe I had done something 'bad' and now I had lost my memory. Humph. I still had to pee.

Wait. I know. I groaned.

I didn't even mean it. But that new doctor had to be taken down a peg or two. Not my fault he couldn't take a joke. Or handle a group therapy session. Just because I pulled a tards hair that knowingly sendt her into a shrieking fit does not mean it was my fault. I will however take the blame for tripping the same tard over sending her sprawling to the ground and causing the rest of the group to scream in chorus along with her. It was obvious it was me because I just sat back enjoying myself with a giant smirk on my face. But that so... didn't qualify for me to be shoved into solitary confinement. I had done worse.

I began pacing again. Hoping that my rushing movements would make me sweat enough so that I didn't have to pee anymore. Made sense in my brain.

Yeah right, that was so going to work. I was going to sweat my pee out. No wonder they locked me up.

Something caught my eye. A small green light hovering on the wall above the blacked out window. Weird. I never noticed it before. I moved further away from it trying to get a better angle to see what exactly it was. Standing on my tippee toes.

It suddenly changed to orange. That was really weird. My back pressed against the coldness of the wall sending a shiver down my spine.

What's that smell? Whoa… light-headed much? I slid down the wall.

What's wrong with my eyes? Why are they blurry? Whose shoes are they? They kinda look like Alexei's shoos. Soft black leather with flat points. Why does my head hurt?

Blackness.


End file.
